Overcoming Boundaries
by Sasami601
Summary: This is a story about race and hate in Middle-Earth, This is the Middle-Earth that wasn't seen! Legolas falls in love with a girl but isn't allowed to pursue a relationship because of their race. Pretty ANGST in future chapters! CHAPTER 2 NOW ADDED!
1. Default Chapter

"Overcoming Boundaries" by ~*Monica da magickal elf©*~legolasfaerie87@yahoo.com  
  
This story is very personal to me. It sort of relates to the way of how people take their ignorance and use it to destroy others. We all might be able to relate to it! Enjoy please! Pour Ena- Legolas est très mignon, je ne soigne pas que tu pense! Bien que j'aime Legolas, Haldir est mon seul vrai amour! ( Notes are at the bottom also!  
  
Lord of the Rings and related characters and words are property of J.R.R. Tolkien. Ireth Ar-feiniel is my own personal elvish character and her people, the Lómëlond belong to me although they are elvish words, which belong to J.R.R. Tolkien. If you wish to use the characters please e-mail me first. Oh and also, the quote about "Blood around the moon, trouble looms" is from "Practical Magic". Also, the language that I created for the Lómë people is a combination of French, Spanish, and Japanese and some freelance Gibberish. (  
  
Chapter 1- History learned and Bashful Legolas  
  
"And so Legolas, you must understand. You cannot waste away over a silly mortal girl of whom you did not know." King Thranduil held his head high, his blue eyes gleaming coldly in the candle lit room. In front of him lay his son, who was in his bed in his room, which was nicely furnished. The room was decorated with earthy colors, the floor a superb polished wood. Vines and trees grew inside from the porch and the huge windows, while Legolas' bed was adorned with silk green linen and lilies atop the canopy. Legolas usually loved his room, but at the moment he loathed it. He loathed everything. Even immortality. And he also loathed the fact that a girl, of whom he had not even spoken a word to, had died in a tragic situation. The tragic situation however was something that he not want to think about. All he could think about was her cold rigid body, her lifeless face contorted with shock.  
  
"Carmillinaë." he whispered softly into his soft white pillow. Thranduil sighed and turned on his heel to leave, exasperated and fed up with his son. His guards then soon followed suit, but stopped when Thranduil had reached the doors. The proud King turned his head, his fair hair gleaming from the soft moonlight beams.  
  
"Legolas," he began softly. "I hope you remember your duty as a prince.and I hope you snap out of this foolishness quickly." He left then, his guards boots clapping rhythmically against the hard wood floors. Legolas waited to hear his door close and when it did, he sat up in his large bed. He then fixated his eyes on the full moon that was clearly visible in front of him. There was a red ring around it; blood around the moon, trouble looms. He thought it quite appropriate for his situation, although it gave him no piece of mind. All he wanted was to get rid of the terrible thoughts and mostly of all, his broken heart. Pushing his green sheets back, Legolas stepped out of his bed, his bare feet hitting the cold floor. But he made no recognition of it. Instead, he walked to his looking glass and peered into it. It was a gift from his Mother before she had left to live with the Elves in Lothlorien. It was beautiful with a silver frame that had the Tengwar inscribed on it. It said in the common tongue,  
  
"To my beautiful Greenleaf, may you fall far from the tree that bore you." Legolas  
  
understood what she meant, as did his father. His mother did not want him to become like his Father. And by that she meant for him to love and love dearly. And that's what he had done, and he had gotten no sort of gratification with it. All he got out of it was a broken heart and a tongue that had never said what it was meant to say. Carmillinaë was a mortal girl, and she had lived in a small man village not far from Mirkwood. She used to go hunting in the forests with her older brothers and there Legolas had seen her. He had been walking through the forests admiring the birds and the flowers and the many different varieties of foliage. That is when he had stumbled across her path, but did not say a word. He could remember her face clearly; her clear green eyes, her porcelain skin that was flushed red after chasing her brothers and her red long, curly hair that gave off the impression of fiery ringlets going down her back.  
  
He had gone back through those woods just to see her. He would sit on a rock that was perched amongst a beaver dam and would smoke a pipe until he saw her. She would come bounding through the woods with a basket over her right forearm, singing a happy song about the sun and the moon and the birds and why life was so beautiful. Legolas would grin then, but remained unnoticed and silent for fear that she would be frightened to know of an Elf watching her every move. And it was for that very moment after she died, Legolas regretted never talking to her.  
  
He had never known her, except for her name. But he had heard it when her brothers would call for her to come back to the village. Legolas stared back at his somber reflection in the mirror. His once radiant eyes held no twinkle, his golden hair held no shine. He was fading slowly, on the account of his broken heart. Smirking bitterly, he picked up a comb and began to run it through his hair. He thought it odd for one to be immortal, but yet to die of silly human emotions such as a broken heart. But he did not think of it for long, for he knew that everything had to die one way or another. But his father didn't want him to die anytime soon. He actually wished for Legolas to stop behaving as a love starved fool.  
  
He had sent plenty of Elven whores to Legolas' bedchamber, but they had left disappointed and unsuccessful. Not one girl could break Legolas out of his spell, except for one. But she was neither whore nor maiden of some important noble family. She was nothing more than a keeper, a special sort of maid. She was the only person who could spend time with Legolas and keep his secrets and talk to him. She was also the only person who could do his laundry, his cooking and even at some occasions, picking out his wardrobe for the day. But she hadn't done that in days because Legolas had not eaten or gotten out of bed in days. She would just sit there at the foot of his bed and tell him stories from her culture. Her culture however was an entirely different race of elves. She came from the land of Lómëlond (Twilight Haven) where the language and appearance of elves was completely different from those who were common to Middle Earth. Their skin was dark and varied from different complexions. Some were as dark as ebony while some were the color of caramel.  
  
Ireth, that was her name, was the color of caramel and Legolas thought her quite beautiful and exotic. She was a firecracker, full of energy and always spoke her mind around Legolas, as she had done when they were children. Although Lómë were told to be quite treacherous and untrustworthy, Legolas thought them to be different and not quite understood. They were resented, although they had one of the biggest strongholds over Middle Earth. Their kingdom alone was a sight to behold. There were castles that were made of Black marble and shined brightly from the moonlight. 'Twas always dark in Lómëlond, no matter what. The sun had seemed to stray far from that land, and had been shunned to the East, never to return, whereas the sun always rises as dawn awakens. But to talk about the Kingdom of Lómëlond and of it's people, and most importantly, Ireth we must know the history. The history of Lómë is quite simple to understand yet it is not for the faint of heart.  
  
The Sindar, known as the Elves of Twilight, became bound to the Lómë when King Thranduil had established his kingdom in the north of Mirkwood, a popular refuge for those of Lómë descent. He heeded them a warning to leave, but the Lómë refused. They wanted their refuge, for it was a place where the royalty and nobility of the great kingdom rested. But King Thranduil did not subside to their petty protests. He imprisoned them, making them slaves to his will. The great King, Mineros Bwatana the 3rd escaped from the northern Woodland realm. When he reached the city of Lómë Reana, his ran to his son pleading for help and to gather an army to release the peoples of their land. But his son, the Prince of Lómëlond, who was greatly spoiled and resented his father, had him executed for madness. This whole plot however, had secret lining. The Prince had made a deal with King Thranduil. He was to send the exiled, people with debt, or anyone that displeased him to Mirkwood for them to work hard. For Lómëlond was in great debt, on account of Mineros Bwatana, the late ruler of the darkened land.  
  
Thranduil then supplied the land with riches and aid, but had held his promise with the Prince for decades. And so, having a Lómë around Mirkwood was thought to be normal. The Prince usually shipped out pregnant women with debt or pregnant widows, to ensure more workers for Lómë's 'Savior', King Thranduil.  
  
And thus, a woman named Ebremniel Ar-feiniel and the future Ireth Ar- feiniel (who was in her Mother's stomach) were brought to Mirkwood and had lived there for nearly 2,000 years. Ireth was born in Mirkwood at about the same time as Legolas was conceived. As they grew older, Ireth began to stay with Legolas, the King's orders. Thranduil had taken a liking to Ireth when she was born because of her immense beauty, and promised her Mother that she would be the Prince's own Keeper. Being a stuffy and selfish child, Legolas had inherited his father's hatred and feel of superiority over the race of the Lómë. Ireth, who was the same age as Legolas, had dealt with his taunting, kicking, biting and hitting everyday for the next 2 years. When they turned 20 (age 6 in human years), Legolas had still kept up the abuse until finally one day, Ireth punched him in the nose, sending him crying to his Father. Legolas grinned faintly, remembering it. He had run into his Father's court, much deserved blood spurting from his nose. He also remembered his Father slapping Ireth sharply across the face and throwing her around. That made his smile fade away. At that moment, as he saw his Father's Elven face contort into a way that it made him seem like an Orc, when he slapped Ireth, he saw the wrong in it. That was the day when Legolas became friends with Ireth, and vowed to her that he would never get her into trouble again nor let his father touch her. But he could not.  
  
As the years passed, they both grew beautifully, their Elven bodies taking on their permanent form. Ireth had grown to be a very beautiful girl with a slender body, bright hazelnut eyes and full lips. Her braids had also grown longer, down to her waist. In Lómë tradition, a girl had to wear her hair in tiny braids at all times until she was married. When she was married, she could then cut off her braids and have a short haircut. It was quite a sight to see Ireth's braids. Black with a red tint they were, and it went perfectly with her skin. They were also adorned with Lómë beads that were dark blues and silvers. Legolas on the other hand had turned into a very handsome Light elf. His hair was blond, his eyes were of a shady melancholic blue and his skin was reminiscent to that of porcelain. All in all they were both two beautiful young elves, yet they had different parts in life. Although they were friends, they kept their friendship secret. Legolas was seen as royalty, and therefore superior to the mere "common rustics" that were referred to many of the Lómë people. Ireth was still only seen as his Keeper, and in public he ignored her and sometimes yelled at her if she did something wrong. But when in private, they could've been mistaken for a brother and sister. When they were together, Legolas kept her safe from his Father. But soon did he find out that his Father had already reached his hand out to his Ireth.  
  
Knock knock. Legolas looked up from his mirror over to his door, where Ireth stood. She must've come into the room as he was staring at his reflection. On her face she had an apprehensive look, but her gaze was still straightforward. She was wearing her Keeper garb, a white gown with long sleeves and a silver girdle. Her braids hung free down her back and swayed gently at every move. And at some moment then, Legolas felt calm and relaxed at her presence, almost causing him to forget his grieving.  
  
"Master Legolas, are you ready for your dinner?" she asked in Sindarin. Although she spoke to him in her own tongue at times, it was customary for the workers to speak in Sindarin in public. She couldn't risk being heard by a guard. Legolas stared at her for a moment then, and shook his head.  
  
"I have not hunger for food," he said quietly. "Only a hunger for the girl that has passed into the Halls of the Unknown." To that response, Ireth sighed heavily, closed the chamber door and locked it. She then walked over to Legolas, her white gown rustling softly and her slippers clapping softly on the wooden floor. Legolas stared at her with sorrowful eyes, and it almost choked her with sympathy. She raised her hand to touch him on the face, his expression still sour. Why must he be this way? Thought Ireth. He was starting to bug her. She took her hand away from his face and ran her eyes over him. Then without warning she slapped him sharply across the face, much to his surprise. It left a mark.  
  
"My dear Prince," she paused and brushed a braid out of her face. "You did not even know the girl. What if she were completely horrible? Wouldn't that be a waste if you died over a silly love spell!" Her brown face was slowly turning red, which only happened when she was annoyed. Legolas regained his composure then, rubbing his cheek gingerly.  
  
"That stung," he replied. Ireth smirked and placed her hands on her hips, her silver bangles jangling nicely.  
  
"Good, maybe it'll wake you up from this terrible dream." Legolas strode over to his bed and sat down, running his fingers through his hair.  
  
"Do not forget your place Ireth, and do not hit me again," he said firmly, reaching for his wrinkled and unkempt shirt that lay on the floor. Ireth snorted and walked over to him, snatching the shirt away from his hands. Even if you were an Elf, some of them still had bad male instincts.  
  
"Look at this shirt you should be ashamed," she said while shaking her head. "And I'll hit you whenever I wish to." She then walked over to his wardrobe and opened the wooden doors, running her hand through the clothes. He had all sorts of beautiful imported fabrics in colors of metallic blue and deep greens and pale yellows.  
  
"You must go down for dinner," she said absentmindedly, while taking down a blue dressing shirt. Legolas lay back on his bed, blinking. His Father still didn't understand did he?  
  
"I will not eat until my heart has mended it's wounds," he replied somberly. Silence followed that remark, and for a fleeting second, Legolas thought to have taken Ireth over, and she would leave him alone. But then he only realized that she wasn't listening to him, but singing a song in her own tongue. She soon walked over to him with her arms filled with clean clothes, dumping them on top oh his face.  
  
"Your hair needs braiding also, so get up so I can do it.tiyë!" she said, adding 'now' in Lómë into the sentence. Pushing the clothes off his face, he did as he was told and sat up, Ireth getting on the bed and onto her knees, positioning herself behind him. Legolas sighed as he felt the comb undo his untidy braid in the back, Ireth grinning.  
  
"Yuë danarä, j'ín wêna siqoui yuë.(You know, I do care about you)," she said softly in Lómë. She finished unbraiding the hair and ran her slim brown fingers through it. Legolas nodded slowly, biting his nails. It was a bad habit and he needed to stop. He rolled his eyes quietly, he knew his Father would have an uproar if he knew that a Prince owned those nails! Dear Valar. He did not feel like seeing his father that night. "Do I have to go to dinner?" he asked slowly, sounding like a toddler who didn't want to go to daycare. "Did he ask for me exclusively?" Ireth nodded although Legolas did not see.  
  
"Aye, zen ín (yes, he did)," she replied, starting to weave his golden hair together fluidly. There was silence then, the only sound coming from Legolas' hair being braided together and Ireth's silent humming. When she finished, she got up from the bed and crossed over to Legolas' table, grabbing a wooden box from it. It was beautifully decorated with carvings of leaves and celestial objects. 'Twas another gift from his mother before she left him to live in Imladris.  
  
"Do you wish to wear beads or sport a circlet around your brow Legolas?" she asked in rapid Lómë, opening the box and revealing to him the objects inside. She blinked down at him, her hazel eyes lit with light. Legolas however stayed quiet.  
  
"Well?" she said, pushing the box towards him.  
  
"Well what?" replied Legolas stubbornly.  
  
"Well what are you going to do?" she said, only a little more angrily. Legolas sighed and heaved his shoulders, lazily thrusting his hand into the box amid the beads and jewelry. But even after a few minutes he removed his hand with nothing, shrugging.  
  
"I don't want anything Ireth," he said quietly. He then got up, pushing Ireth slightly away from him, much to her dislike. She turned angrily to see where he was going, only to spot him going into his washroom. Setting down the box on the bed, Ireth put her hands on he hips and sported a glare so deadly it could've killed. She then heard his voice yelling from the lavatory.  
  
"Can you draw me a bath Ireth?" he asked in Lómë, removing his leggings from behind a curtain in the lavatory. "Perhaps I could drown in the water to end my suffering." He waited for her to reply and come to the lavatory but little did he know that Ireth wasn't listening to him. She didn't reply nor did Legolas hear her shoes clapping across the floor.  
  
"Ireth?" he said hopefully. Surely she didn't leave him, he would've heard the door close. But no, when he did not hear her footsteps or her breathing, he figured her gone.  
  
"Thank you Ireth for staying around a while longer," he remarked bitterly to himself. He then pulled back the curtains and prepared himself to get into the pool that was already filled with water, but was cold. But to his complete horror, he saw Ireth standing right in front of him with her arms crossed and a look of pure indignation on her pretty face. But he wasn't worried about the look on her face! He was naked! Blushing furiously then, he jumped right back behind the curtain and cursed in Sindarin.  
  
"Ireth!" he exclaimed, his face the color of a ripe tomato. "Have you lost your senses? You mustn't see me like this! It's most unproper!" After he had practically yelled those words, he heard nothing else except for the clicking of Ireth's tongue. It was then that he knew that Ireth was in no mood to be trifled with. Surprisingly then, Ireth snatched back the curtains and smirked.  
  
"Its not like I haven't seen a naked Elf before Legolas, come now to your senses." She ran her eyes over his nude body (which was now flushed red from extreme embarrassment) and clicked her teeth.  
  
"There is already a bath drawn for you, though it is cold. I shall not fetch any hot water now for I am tired and do not feel like it. So hurry up, get dressed and come down to the main Hall quickly. It's not my fancy to have your Father hit me because of your own selfishness and stubbornness!" She then turned quickly, her braids whipping Legolas in the face softly. They smelled of lilacs Legolas observed.  
  
"Ireth! Wait!" he said. She turned around to look back at him, her hand on the doorknob of which was covered with vines.  
  
"Yes?" she said, her eyebrows raised. Legolas took a step forward towards her, suddenly remembering that he was naked. He covered himself up and blinked.  
  
"I'm sorry if I'm being difficult, but I'm sure you understand what I am going through," he said. Ireth shrugged and raised her hand automatically to begin playing with her braids.  
  
"If you are referring to Liniel, that wasn't true love. It was hypocrisy at it's best." She looked over to the pool and nodded her head. "Take your bath Prince." She then left and closed the door, sliding down it slowly and burying her head into her lap. Liniel she thought bitterly. Why did Legolas have to bring memories of him to her? She hated that man, although she was to be his wife until he was killed by.it didn't matter. Standing up, she brushed off her dress and left Legolas' room, closing the door behind her quietly, silently hoping that Legolas would come down to dinner so she would not have to suffer his blows.  
  
***** Notes: For the 'elven whores', my friend came up with that one day when we were talking about what are 'occupation' would be if we were Elves. And.that was the result unfortunately! Oh and by the way, I will have a full completely dictionary and instructions on how to speak the Lómë language soon enough! Yes! I actually created a full language! That's how much time I have on my hands! Please read this story and enjoy it! Merci beaucoup ^_~  
  
~*monica da magickal elf©*~ 


	2. Teyêkna, Punishment and Ideas

"Overcoming Boundaries" by Monica da magickal elf©  
Chapter 2! This is sort of like the basis of all that is going to happen in the rest of the story, so see if you can find out some clues. Anyway, in this chapter, Ireth gets hit, introducing Teyêkna and Legolas comes up with a brilliant idea! Please enjoy!  
  
Lord of the Rings and related characters and words are property of J.R.R. Tolkien. The Lómë people belong to me, as does the language, which was created by me! If you want to use the Lómë language or the people please e- mail me first. Thanks!  
Chapter 2- Teyêkna, Punishment and Ideas  
  
Ireth walked into the Great Hall nervously. It was already 6:30 and Legolas was not yet presentable for his Father or the court. Not to mention that if he did not come, it would be considered Ireth's own personal fault. Other handmaidens bustled past Ireth as bit her bottom lip, staring ahead. At the main table in the front sat the King in all his glory, other important Elves conversing with him quietly. Their voices rang out through the big hall, the earth and plant covered walls trembling slightly. There were candles shining brightly from the chandeliers, giving the room a dark and mystical aura. It would've been a great sight to see, but at that moment then, Ireth was horrified.  
  
"A boina Dânya." muttered Ireth, twisting her hands together. Looking nervously at the grand clock on the wall, Ireth suddenly heard a frantic whisper in Lómë  
  
"Ireth! Jágo san! (Over here!)" Ireth turned to her right, catching sight of her younger brother hiding behind a large curtain in front of the bay windows, of which lead to a giant porch area. What was he doing here, thought Ireth angrily. Teyêkna was only 300 years old (12 in human years) and a pure pain. He was always getting into trouble, and the blame usually went on Ireth. Argh! He wasn't supposed to be there! Casually glancing over to the King, the she-Elf trotted over to the curtains, readying her hands to wrap around the brat's throat.  
  
"What are you doing here?" she commanded in their own tongue. The defiant young Elf shrugged and smirked, his curly black hair going every which way.  
  
"I got bored and plus Mama is busy in the kitchens, so she had gotten frustrated with me so she told me to go jump in a creek but," he trailed off and nodded towards the King and his company. "I decided to come here and watch."  
  
"They are not a kind of animal to be oogled at Teyêkie," replied Ireth, looking about. Did she seem obvious?  
  
"How many times have I told you not to call me that!" exclaimed Teyêkna, his greenish-brown eyes flashing angrily.  
  
"Shh!" Ireth shushed hastily, slapping her hand against his mouth and looking around frantically. And only to her horror, she noticed that a few Light Elves had looked over to her and were throwing dirty looks. She had to reassure them that she was just looking out the window, so she nodded and turned back her brother.  
  
"If I get into trouble Teyêkie," she muttered at the corners of her mouth. "I will make it my personal duty to make your life a living Shadow, now leave!" With that she pushed the boy out onto the porch and closed the doors. She was sure that he had climbed up the vines to get in there in the first place, so he would just have to climb down again. After locking the doors Ireth began to walk over towards the Great Hall entrance, where she was to stand until Legolas arrived. But before she could settle against the wall and utter a small prayer to the Goddess, Thranduil had called out to her.  
  
"Ireth, please come here," he said slowly, his regal voice ringing out through the hall. Her heart stopped. Did he see her brother? Oh how she did not want to move, her body's reluctance sending her nerves into shock. But she had to move and she did, finally walking slowly towards the table. She lowered her head while passing the important counselors and chancellors of Mirkwood. Ireth could feel their pale and icy eyes sting her flesh, but dared not to question them. Having reached her destination, Ireth got down on her knees and kissed the royal hand of the King, lowering her head and waiting for him to speak.  
  
"See how well behaved my dark Elves are?" boomed Thranduil proudly. Although the young she-Elf could not see, she felt the Light Elves nod in agreement, their cobalt and silver eyes boring into her.  
  
"So my dear Ireth," continued Thranduil. "Have you seen to my son? Is he to join us?" The Light elves quieted and gave their full undivided attention to her. Ireth slowly raised her head, her hazel eyes glancing straight into Thranduils.  
  
"He is to come down in some time your Lordship. I had drawn a bath for him quite some time ago and," she paused and glanced over to the clock. "So do not toil my lord, he has promised." She then lowered her head again and stood up, brushing off her dress, thinking she could leave without another word. But Thranduil looked at her, a snarl forming on his face.  
  
"I did not clarify if you could leave Ireth," said the King with a deadly calm tone of voice. At those words, Ireth's face slowly turned red with embarrassment. She knelt down quickly while hearing soft cynical laughter ring out. Damn Light Elves thought Ireth. She hated being laughed at, especially by nobles.  
  
"I do not know the reasons why you toil with these Lómë your highness," remarked Silinde, an Elf and friend to the house of Thranduil. To that sentence, Ireth raised her head and shot the Elf a poisonous glare. For a second there Ireth's tongue had been ready to reply to his snide remark but she knew better. But she did notice then that Silinde's eyes were glaring at her at the corners. She quickly bowed her head again.  
  
"Dear Silinde son of Silindriel, if it were not for the Lómë who had discovered this land we would not be here having this joyous feast," replied Thranduil. The other light elves laughed heartily and some even raised their crystal goblets.  
  
"Yes," said a low and angry filled voice. "And if it weren't for you my people would have flourished and have their freedom!" A knife could have cut the tension that filled the Hall after that sentence was spoken. The laughter had quickly died and the goblets found themselves placed on the table. Trembling with fury and horror, Ireth looked around at them all. Had she just said those words? Out loud? She was still on her knees and seemed timid, yet her hazel eyes held a rage that could rival Thranduil's when he was angry. Thranduil. Ireth gulped, looking up into his eyes. But she found no comfort. Only a King with a glare that could melt ice. Her body shivering, her palms sweaty. What would he do?  
  
"Ireth," said the King slowly, looking down on her. "Come to my apartments after dinner. It seems that I must re-teach you how it is not allowed that a wench like yourself does not speak when she is not spoken to!" Smack! Ireth fell back, a red hand forming on the side of her face. Slowly, she felt tears stinging to be released from their ducts, but she dared not allow one to fall. She would not give the cursed Elves the pleasure of seeing her sob.  
  
"Get out of my sight Ireth," huffed Thranduil. He need not have told her twice. Ireth got up and ran out of the Hall into the main corridor. She didn't know where she going, nor where she was running for it was dark in the halls, no candles present. But she was soon stopped as she bumped harshly into someone. And to the head on collision, Ireth found herself back on the ground, her head hitting the ground slightly. Oh no, thought the she-Elf. She braced herself for a scolding of some sort, especially if it were a noble late for the feast. But instead, a familiar voice rang out of the darkness.  
  
"Two occasions has it been that you have injured me this night Ireth." Ireth glanced up only to be greeted with the sight of Legolas. He was dressed nicely in a yellow tunic, leaf green breeches and his soft leather boots.  
  
"'Tis about time you've arrived!" exclaimed Ireth sorrowfully. Legolas extended a hand, helping her off the floor. Ireth accepted his hand graciously, dusting off her white dress.  
  
"I am sorry, but I did want to enjoy my bath for a while," he explained, walking around her as if studying her. The windows across from them allowed soft moon beams to come in, some of the light revealing Ireth to him. And as he observed her, he noticed the red hand mark on for face. He touched it lightly, Ireth snatching her face away from him.  
  
"It is nothing," she said, moving out of the light. But Legolas was not to give up so easily.  
  
"He hit you didn't he?" he asked. Silence came from Ireth, which answered his question for him. Why did his Father always resort to violence? But Legolas could not blame his Father entirely. He was late and that was probably the cause of Ireth's punishment.  
  
"I will explain to my Father the reason why I am late," said Legolas. "So then that way he can apologize." To that Ireth snorted. Was Legolas joking?  
  
"Your sunã* of a Father apologize?" she smirked bitterly. "That will be the day when no evil exists in the world." Legolas flinched slightly at the way Ireth had insulted his Father. No less than Ireth had Legolas held respect for his Father, but it was his Father after all. And he soon realized that Ireth had regretted her choice of vocabulary also.  
  
"I am sorry Legolas," she apologized. She raised a hand to her forehead and heaved a heavy sigh. "Go on to the Hall, you are beyond late." She then began to walk away, melting into the darkness. Legolas shouted out to her.  
  
"We will discuss further matters later on yes?" he questioned. There was a pause after his sentence, but she finally answered from far off.  
  
"Aye Belin ni Legolas, but it will be late."  
  
"I shall wait," he replied. And after that, there was silence.  
  
*  
  
Ebremniel Ar-feiniel could not believe it. The night had been a complete and royal mess! The main course of the meal was not quite finished, the young she-Elves had a very bad attitude and Teyêkna was 2 minutes short from having a slipper thrown at his head.  
  
"Dânya bágë moin!" exclaimed the elder she-Elf. She prayed the Goddess Dânya helped her through this night, for she could not bear another scolding from the King himself. Sighing, Ebremniel crossed over to her shrine, located next to the pantry whereas flour and sugar sat in wooden barrels. Upon the altar lay fruit, incense and a portrait of Dânya, the Goddess of the Dark Children. Her dress was long and black, shimmering from the illuminated moon behind her. Her arms were spread and welcoming, as if telling her children to turn to her for comfort and help. The signature of fertility, her long braids, spilled over her bust, the Goddess's eyes alive and dark. Oh yes, the eyes were the main purpose of the sacrilege. Though to the untrained eye, the picture seemed peaceful and serene, yet the eyes of the Goddess held anger.  
  
Many of her children had avoided her, and had turned to the Gods of other. But not Ebremniel! She had raised her children as if they were in the great city of Lómë Reana itself. She had taught them the teachings of the Goddess and the ways of their people. Oh how Ebremniel wished to see Lómë Reana again. She had once owned a great house in the heart of the city, and she had once had a lover who promised to never leave her. That was a lie. And also a deep passion of desire ran in Ebremniel to allow her children to see their Mother country. Sure, Ireth and her brother knew all of the parts and stories and legends of Mirkwood, but had never experienced the beauty and lore of their true city. And finally, Ebremniel wished to see her daughter married off, so she could one day shorn off her braids and bear beautiful children.  
  
"Bof!" exclaimed Ebremniel angrily, bowing to the altar and trotting away over to the cauldron. It was impossible to marry Ireth off, many reasons due to the she-Elf's attitude! She ran off at the mouth too much, and the good mark of a bride in Lómë was the ability to keep her mouth shut and to speak only when spoken to. But not Ireth! Thought Ebremniel angrily. She had been around the Light Elves too long, they had plagued her good home training. Ebremniel plunged her huge wooden spoon into a thick stew simmering nicely in the huge cauldron. Suddenly then, the she-Elf almost jumped out of her slippers from a high pitched scream. Dropping the spoon and running into the other side of the kitchens, Ebremniel held up a broom, waiting to hit a thief or beggar that came from the man village none too far off. But she only found Niysa, a chamber maiden standing on a chair screaming her head off. And below her was none other than Ebremniel's son holding a snake, thrashing it about like a plaything. Teyêkna shrugged and smiled.  
  
"What did I do?" he asked innocently, grinning up to the girl. "It's only a snake after all!"  
  
*  
  
Ireth sat on the porch of Legolas' bedroom quietly. What was her problem? She had been running off at the mouth for weeks now and it had cost her nothing but pain. And what of the evening she had to spend with the King? Oh how she wished that dinner would last a very long time. The she-Elf placed her chin upon her knee, drawing her body up to a ball. She then admired the sky and the canopy of the forest, the darkness and quietness rushing over her. From a distance also, she could spot the gleaming tower of the great castle of Lómë Reana. She wondered if the people were still out wondering about, talking and chatting in rapid Lómë speech, exchanging gifts and dancing and singing. Not being a slave to Elves that did not appreciate you. Light Elves who were seen as beautiful and caring beings, but truly prejudice and biased as any other race. But not all Light Elves were terrible thought Ireth half-heartily. Legolas was nice and had never caused her any harm. But if she were not careful, she could soon lose his favor.  
  
Long had it been since they had any time to talk of anything but his Father. And it was usually then when Ireth would insult the King or curse the whole race of Light Elves, thinking nothing of it naturally. Ireth bit her tongue subconsciously, a wave a humiliation spreading through her chest. Ireth could not blame Legolas for the way his Father behaved. Nor could she blame him for the behavior of his friends and other kin. But that Silinde! He had caused her blood to boil with the comment that he had spoken! He was always the one to comment on the ways of her people or constantly insult Ireth to her face. You would think that he held something personal against her, but Ireth had done him no harm.  
  
Sighing heavily then, Ireth got up to her feet wondering how much time had passed. She had gone to Legolas' room right after she had bumped into him. And dinner usually did not last too long. Glancing longingly at the moon once more and feeling calm, Ireth stepped back in Legolas' room, leaving the doors ajar and allowing the cool night breeze to blow gently into the lavish lounge. But as she walked back into the room, her calmness suddenly erupted violently throughout her body, frustration breaking free from its restraints. Ireth threw a vase across the room, it slamming against the wall and shattering into tiny pieces.  
  
"Jen ni danarä zyán du!*" the she-Elf screamed tearfully, falling to the ground. She felt hopeless, knowing that she would be punished greatly that night. The hate and fear she felt at that moment was terribly abysmal, and she knew it was her own self that had brought upon her unfortunate future. Get up, screamed her conscience angrily. You are behaving like an Elfling would; you should be well ashamed! But she could not. All of the pent up frustration she had felt ages ago had seemed to burst free from her soul and she gladly allowed it. The sounds of her soft sobbing echoed throughout the quiet room until suddenly, Ireth heard the bedroom door open.  
  
"Ireth?" Legolas walked into his bedroom, concern clearly present on his handsome face. Sniffling and jumping up quite quickly, Ireth took the back of her hand and dried away her tears. An awkward silence then filled the room, the two of them just looking at each other. Legolas spoke first.  
  
"Are you going to be all right?"  
  
"Aye." Ireth looked down to the ground, not daring to look into his eyes. Silence.  
  
*  
  
Ireth took a deep breath, leaning against the wall outside of Thranduil's quarters. She had literally run from Legolas' room, completely mortified of the fact that Legolas had witnessed her sobbing. Slapping a hand against her forehead harshly, the she-elf groaned causing her throat to throb. She was such an elfling at times she thought bitterly.  
  
"Cannot dwell on the incident too long," she whispered quietly. She had to go into the King's room, no matter how reluctant she felt. And so, slowly she reached her hand over to the golden knob, twisting it and pushing against the wooden doors. Inside it was dark and cold, much like the Elf that resided there. Ireth closed the door, sending a soft echo throughout the room. She then heard his voice ring out.  
  
"Is that you Ireth?" he questioned. His voice sent a shiver down her spine.  
  
"Aye, tis M'lord," she replied, her voice quivering slightly.  
  
"Good, good," he said, coming out of his wardrobe. Although Ireth could not see too clearly, she saw that he wore a green dressing robe with his golden hair hanging loosely. Dear Dânya, thought Ireth. How great the resemblance was between Legolas and the King. But no, this Elf was not Legolas. Legolas would never hit her nor.do anything else to her. Suprisingly then, Thranduil trotted over to Ireth placing his large white hand on her neck softly.  
  
"My precious Ireth," he started. "You have become quite the little troublemaker as of late. And to be frank, I am growing tired of this." He then took her hand, dragging her over to his large bed that was draped with many silk sheets. He placed her down gently, towering over her. Ireth suddenly then felt her insides turn to liquid. The King was beautiful, yet terrible and powerful. And she could scream and scream for help, but no one would come. So she would have to endure his kisses and touching for the fortnight, no matter how much she wished it to not happen. Ireth shut her eyes, trapping the tears that were ready to escape. Thranduil kissed her cheek softly, rubbing his hands all over her body.  
  
"You possess an exotic beauty you know," he whispered into her ear. "You would almost be suitable for a wife, with the blood you carry and all." What did he mean by that? Ireth squirmed a little, shifting under his weight. The blood she carried? She carried the blood of just another Dark Elf did she not? But before she could even ask her questions, the King had already pressed his lips against hers roughly, the she-elf closing her eyes, beginning to block out reality.  
  
*  
  
As the hour grew late, and the castle became to ease, Ebremniel rubbed her hands together nervously. Where was Ireth? It was already half past 9 o clock, and her daughter had not yet returned to the servant quarters. The living facilities of the servants and workers were on the western wing of the castle. It was large and dark yet cozy area, where several little rooms were built into. But the outer parts of it, where the Lómë cooked, ate and danced to music and prayed was reminiscent to the household of a large Lómë family. Drums that were used and beaten sat against the stone walls, portraits of the Goddess sat perched against a shrine. Also Lómë rugs and cooking ware was spread across the cooking and resting rooms. All of the different families lived in this large room, and it was like a huge family. And yet, while all of the other dark Elves rested easily, Ebremniel's mind was alit with questions. Was she with the Prince? It was normal for Ireth to spend the whole night conversing with Legolas. Yet, at times Ebremniel wondered if there was more than conversation going on between the two.  
  
Ireth and Legolas were unbearably close and many Lómë could tell. Most of the Lómë Elders disapproved of it, thinking that it was not right for Ireth to befriend her own enslaver. But not even the sharp tongues and wicked advice had changed Ireth's attitude towards her friend. Yet Ebremniel knew that if Ireth and Legolas did get involved with each other, it would only be Ireth who would receive the punishment. Punishment from both the Light and Dark elves. The Light elves would put her into exile probably, and the Lómë would see her as a whore or a very confused dark Elf who needed to be put into her place. Ebremniel knew that her heart could not take that pressure, and every night before she lay to rest, she prayed to the Goddess to grant her daughter leadership and good choices. And so far, she hoped her praying has been helping. Just then, Ebremniel sat on an old Lómë rug, crossing her elegant legs and staring straightforward into the mirror across from her. The mirror (though it was cracked) showed the reflection of an older She-elf, a sheer morsel of proof of where Ireth had inherited her looks. Although an older She-elf, Ebremniel still held her shapely body and strong posture. The only difference that could be told was her hair. It was short and brown, numerous beads and braids strewn about. Ebremniel looked away. Where was Ireth? Suddenly then, Teyêkna ran past, a long branch trailing behind him. He stopped dead in his tracks when he noticed his Mother sitting on the rug. She wore a look of calmness yet worriness.  
  
"Tiapä?" he muttered quietly. He walked over to her, sitting down. Ebremniel turned to face him, blinking.  
  
"Have you seen your sister as of late?"  
  
"Nay," replied the Elfling. "But I did catch ill word from one of the nobles that she had gotten into trouble once more. Her wicked tongue has spoken mild blasphemy I suppose."  
  
Ebremniel held back a gasp, glancing down at her hands.  
  
"Dânya bagé moin tinä*," muttered the She-Elf frantically. She was whispering a prayer. She knew where Ireth was.  
  
*  
  
"And so Ireth, you've never been to your city of birth?" asked Legolas quietly.  
  
"Nay," replied Ireth, who sat across from him on the bed. She had gone straight to his room after the ordeal with his Father, yet she told him nothing of the treatment or physical interactions that had occurred. Never having the heart to tell Legolas burned Ireth. They were always the ones to tell each other's secrets to each other, and laugh about the silliness of them all. But no, she could not tell the stories of the horror his Father had brought to her dreams. And so she quickly blocked them out as quickly has they happened, and she appeared to Legolas happy and serene, as if nothing were the matter. And besides, she was glad to see him in a better mood than he had been in the past couple of weeks.  
  
Legolas however still pondered at Ireth's secret suffering. He knew deep in his heart that she was struggling with her own sadness, but yet she would never open up to him. The young Prince crossed his legs and began to trace a stitch along his bed spread. He smiled.  
  
"Do you remember when your Mother made me this quilt?" he asked. Ireth smiled also and ran a hand over it, nodding.  
  
"It did not take her long," she replied. "She rather enjoyed making it. She said that it reminded her of the days when she was back in the native land." Always did her mother speak of the great land. Ireth alone had never seen it yet she wished with all of her heart to become free, and set foot there.  
  
"You know," began Ireth slowly. "I do plan to escape from this place and go to Lómë Reana, one day at least." To this, Legolas glanced at her, his blues eyes searching her face. Surely she was not serious? The cost for a slave to run away from this place was sudden death. But then again, Legolas could understand her need to see her native country. She was born in Mirkwood, yet she was still an Elf to the Lómë and would not be complete until she witnessed the great city. This thought made Legolas think. Would it be possible if? Well yes perhaps it could happen!  
  
"Ireth!" he exclaimed. Ireth's glanced at him, tearing her eyes away from the beautiful dark quilt.  
  
"What?" she asked. She saw Legolas' excited face.  
  
"Wouldn't it be interesting if I could talk my Father into allowing me and you, and of course others to visit the great city of Lómë Reana?" He said all of this very fast.  
  
"Uh, what?" stuttered Ireth. She did wish that Legolas would stop raising her hopes up. "Your Father would never stand for it you know."  
  
"Yes he would!" retorted Legolas. "He has always said that he thought that I should venture about the lands and collect memories. Ireth this is the perfect idea!" Legolas' smiling was contagious and soon Ireth couldn't stop smiling to herself. And even though the King would probably turn down the idea, she couldn't help but feel excited. She jumped to her feet and twirled around, grinning.  
  
"Legolas," she said, collapsing back onto the bed. "If this is to happen, I should very well die happy."  
  
To be continued..  
  
NOTES:  
  
Sunã - The English equivalent of this would be "Bastard". Dânya bágë moin - Translation to this is "Danya help me!" Jen ni danarä zyán du - I don't know what to do! Dânya bagé moin tinä - Danya help my daughter.  
  
I do believe that is all. I know this chapter was kind of rusty but I had caught a mild dose of writer's block but I really wanted to add a new chapter. So please review! 


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